Silent words, Comfort me
by ai oi
Summary: SLASH. COMPLETE. Aragorn is being torn apart, and Legolas will not allow it...But now, just who is comforting whom?
1. Chapter 1

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Silent words, Comfort me

This is set somewhere between the time the Fellowship left the mines of Moria and before they arrived at Lothlorien.

It's slash. You've been warned. Have fun.

Standard disclaimers apply.

He awoke to the sound of muffled weeping.

Glancing upwards, he discerned by the position of the moon among the stars that it was just past midnight. At his right, the four little ones slept curled close to one another for warmth; to his left, Gimli and Boromir sprawled exhausted, snoring softly.

He rose silently, draping his cloak over his shoulders. The night was unusually chill so far up in the mountains, especially for one who had grown up surrounded by temperate forest climate all his life. 

Listening intently, he sought the source of the weeping. By this time, it had grown so faint that it was difficult even for him. Nonetheless, his keen senses soon led him towards a shadowy outcrop of rock, and the dark figure beneath it.

He stepped lightly over the snow; the powdery white substance barely giving at each step. Unsure of what to do, he paused two steps away from Aragorn, and hesitated.

He felt the hurt; raw agony laced the man's soul, unhealed even after all this time. An enormous sorrow dwelled in his eyes, lurked just beneath his skin, a pain so tangible that Legolas wondered why he wasn't screaming madly in the dark. Surely even that would have been more understandable than the almost maniacal control with which he kept his emotions in check, a control which was tearing him apart.

Legolas unconsciously reached out, placing a slender hand on his shoulder. At his touch, Aragorn started, and immediately ceased weeping. Still, he made no motion to push him away, so Legolas remained, keeping this tactile contact.

Moonlight shone through the clouds, highlighting golden hair and alabaster skin so that it seemed he glowed with some inner light. At his feet, Aragorn knelt, dark in the night except for the twin trails of tears that gleamed coldly down his cheek. They stood like that for an eternity, or perhaps merely an instant.

Suddenly, Aragorn said softly, as though resuming a long conversation, "He knew, he knew it all along and he never told me."

Lost, Legolas waited for him to continue.

"He had long ago foretold the downfall of Gandalf the Grey in Moria, and yet he did not trust me enough to confide in me, though he bade me lead… I should have been the one to stay, you know," Aragorn said in the same monotone, "Of us all, he was the one least expendable, and I the most."

"No, Estel…" Legolas began, though he was not sure of what exactly he denied.

Aragorn cut him off abruptly, "I am heir to the greatest kingdom of Men on Middle Earth, and the blood of the ancient kings of Numenor flows through my veins, yet I could not even save my oldest friend. Some king." He laughed bitterly, self-disgust and anger colouring his tone.

That self-hatred cut through Legolas like a knife. Tightening his hold on Aragorn's shoulders, Legolas spun him around to face him with a strength that belied his slight build. Aragorn struggled briefly, but his attempt was half-hearted at best and he could not have hoped to escape the elf's determined grip.

"Listen to me, son of Arathorn," Legolas said harshly, "before you sink into a mire of self-pity, you _will_ fulfill your duty to this Fellowship, and to the task that Gandalf set you. I would tell you that none of it was your fault, and certainly not one among us casts blame upon you for this loss, but I know you would not listen. So I tell you now Estel, that it is _your_ duty to see Frodo to Mordor, and the One Ring destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom. He needs you Estel…" Legolas paused, his voice dropping to nary a whisper, "I need you."

Aragorn glanced up in surprise, and brown eyes were caught and held by those of clear emerald green. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he thought he would drown in the sheer beauty of the elf's gaze.

"How long do you think I have wondered this earth?" Legolas asked softly, watching the man before him, "Three hundred?" He smiled at the affirmation in Aragorn's eyes. "Try three thousand." He did not know whether laugh or cry at the shock that filled the other man's face.

Pacing absently back and forth, he continued, "I have seen the mountains rise and the seas dry up. Gandalf was one of my oldest, dearest friends, I mourn him too. Perhaps even more so than you, for I have seen so many loved ones wither and fail before my eyes that I…" He paused, struggling to regain his composure.

"That you what?" Aragorn asked, captivated in spite of himself by a side of the normally emotionless elf he never knew existed.

Holding Aragorn's gaze, Legolas said almost inaudibly, his meaning unmistakable, "I never thought I'd love again."

Legolas' heart pounded in his chest like a caged thing denied too long. So very very slowly, he brought his lips to that of the man before him, and touched…

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He is mortal! his mind screamed at him, _He will die!_

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I don't care! his heart cried back. 

And then he felt strong arms pull him closer, as Aragorn deepened the kiss, and all rational thought left him.

They broke from the kiss gasping for air, Legolas cradled gently in Aragorn's arms. "I…" Aragorn began, desire and duty warring in his eyes. Legolas followed the path of his hand to the evenstar at his neck. Understanding flared through him.

"She will not mind," Legolas said softly, wrapping his hand around Aragorn's, the evenstar firmly held in both their grips.

"I can't…" Aragorn said insistently, pulling away and standing in one fluid motion. He turned away from Legolas, resting his head against one hand on the cold stone, hitting the other against the unforgiving rock in frustration.

Legolas laughed, mocking but not unkind, and said, "For one who has lived so long amongst the People, how have you managed to understand so little?" He rose, and walked gracefully behind Aragorn. Spreading his hands across that broad back, he rested his head on Aragorn's shoulder. He continued, "She would rather have you healed through me than returned without but broken."

He watched Aragorn's fist unclench, but the man made no other move. Legolas stepped back and raised an eyebrow, betraying no sign whatsoever of the sudden pain that lanced through his heart. "We are not humans," he said, "I do not ask for your affection."

At that statement, Aragorn spun around and caught both his wrists in one hand, slamming the elf none too gently against the wall of rock. Legolas' eyes widened, and he winced in pain. Aragorn bent, and kissed him hungrily, devouring him to his soul.

When Aragorn finally let the elf go, he smiled slightly at the unfocused look in the elf's green eyes. Closing the dazed elf's fingers around a slender object, he turned and strode back towards the camp.

Legolas looked down in surprise at the evenstar in his hand, then up at the man walking away from him.

"The problem is," Aragorn said, not turning around, "You have it."

Comprehension dawned in the elf's emerald eyes, and he gazed with renewed wonder at this bittersweet gift. Looking up again at Aragorn's retreating back, he allowed himself a small smile. He would heal; it might take months, or even years, but Gondor would have her king whole in both body and soul. As for Arwen and Rivendell and all the rest, they would deal with it another day. But for now, they had each other.

And it was enough.

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© ai 2002

Hope you liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

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Silent Words, Comfort me

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Author's note: Thank you thank you thank you everyone who's reviewed chapter 1. Honestly, I intended this to be a one-off fic but due to all the really nice reviews I've received, I've decided to continue. Hope I didn't ruin everything by putting in this chapter.

Hmm, think the characters are a little ooc in this one, but really, this is just a prelude to the next chapter - where all the fun begins…though I seriously wonder if I can bring myself to write anything beyond a little slap and tickle.

This one's set about a month after the Ring has been destroyed. It's still slash, but mere hints. Enjoy.

Standard disclaimers apply.

****

Chapter 2

Legolas stifled a yawn, and nodded absently to the courtier in front of him. He wondered if it could get any worse than this; the night was young, the entertainment dull and the company…suffice to say that the only one who's companionship he desired was seated at the high table an ocean away.

Given his status as Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas would normally have been entitled a place by Aragorn's side. Yet tonight, the heir of Gondor and Arnor was surrounded by priests and ministers of the state, in preparation for the most momentous, or rather the only, coronation of the millennium, which was to be held the next day.

Gently disentangling the over-eager noblewoman's arm from his own, Legolas' eyes darted back and forth over the various exits from the Great Hall, desperately searching for an escape from the dreary banquet. Just then, the whisper of a name caught his attention.

"…the Lady Arwen…" 

Amid the raucous voices raised at the banquet, Legolas picked out those of two gossiping courtiers, straining to hear more of the conversation taking place a table away.

"…beautiful woman…a lovely couple…" 

"…arriving tomorrow at dawn…"

The words rocked Legolas in his seat. How could he have forgotten? Turning to the gushing noblewoman still rattling away at his side, he managed to compose himself enough to interrupt her gently, saying, "The Lady Arwen… she is arriving tomorrow?"

The question threw her off for a moment, but she quickly rallied, and said excitedly, "Oh yes, as well as her entourage of Rivendell elves. It's all very exciting you know, what with the wedding to be held as part of the coronation ritual. Of course, I personally feel it's all too rushed, but who knows with elves? Oh dear, I'm so dreadfully sorry, I really didn't mean it to come out that way. But as I was saying…"

By this time, Legolas had heard everything he considered to be of import and let the rest of her words pass by him like water over rock. He had expected Arwen to come of course, but he had not expected the wedding to be held so soon, or even for her to arrive for perhaps another month.

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What does it matter? You knew you'd have to leave him sooner or later. he told himself reproachfully.

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But why oh why couldn't have been later? asked a traitorous voice in his head.

Squelching that thought as firmly as he could, Legolas sank back into his seat, brooding over an untouched cup of wine. Twirling the long stem between his fingers, he wondered what he would do next. While he had meant it when he'd told Aragorn that Arwen would not mind, a tryst between two lonely souls was a very different thing from…

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From what? he asked himself. In truth, what _had_ Aragorn sought from his arms but comfort in lean times? And with Arwen's return, surely he would now turn to her. 

And then what? Would he ask him to leave? Probably not, the man was too polite for the brisk dismissal of a former paramour. And yet, that same misplaced sense of honour would no doubt make him uncomfortable in Legolas' continued presence. Perhaps, it would be in everyone's best interests if he simply left of his own accord.

But still…clutching at the evenstar worn hidden under his tunic, Legolas refused to ask himself that one question.

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What if?

~

Lost as he was in his own thoughts, Legolas started at the touch of a heavy hand clamped onto his shoulder.

"Well now," came a familiar growling voice thick with suppressed mirth, "It isn't everyday I get to catch one of the fair folk unawares."

"Gimli!" Legolas cried happily, turning to face him, "I haven't seen you all evening, what have you been up to?"

"Oh, this and that," said the dwarf, pulling a chair over and seating himself by the elf's side, much to the displeasure of a certain noblewoman. "My cousin's leaving for the caverns below Helm's Deep tomorrow and we had to give him a proper send-off." He winked conspiratorially and indicated the spread laid out before them, "The fare of Men is a little too tame for our tastes."

Gimli stretched out with a relieved sigh and continued, "Ahh, Helm's Deep…No other cave I've ever seen can even begin to rival its beauty. The moment I described it to him, he insisted on taking off immediately. I'd have gone with him too, but what with the coronation and all…"

"Gimli," Legolas interrupted in sudden inspiration, clutching at the dwarf's arm, "Do you remember how, on the quest to destroy the Ring so many moons ago, I promised to visit the caverns of Helm's Deep in your company if you would come with me to Fangorn?"

"Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with this…"

"It has everything to do with it," Legolas replied, not realising that his voice had sunk to a harsh whisper, "I would go now, Gimli. Let us go with your kinsman to that place; surely if it is as remarkable as you have made it out to be, you must miss it dearly."

"Well, not that you mention it, I guess I do," Gimli looked worriedly into the elf's troubled eyes, "But surely we can't go _now_. There'll be plenty of time later when Aragorn has been crowned and the Lady Arwen sits at his side."

A brief flash of pain passed through the murky green depths of Legolas' eyes, though he hid it well enough a moment later. If Gimli hadn't been watching the elf so intently, he'd have missed it altogether.

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So that's what this is all about. the dwarf thought, his expression softening. _Ai, foolish Prince, that way lies heartbreak._

"Listen to me Legolas," Gimli said gently, patting the hand which the elf still laid upon his arm, "You don't have to do this, there are other ways."

"I…I don't know what you're talking about." 

Glancing meaningfully at Aragorn, Gimli said, "You didn't think I was blind, did you? Or deaf? Any fool can see how the two of you feel about each other. So what's the problem? I thought you elves were rather more liberal about such things than the rest of us unenlightened folk."

Legolas sighed resignedly and threw his hands up in surrender. "I never could keep anything from you, could I?" he said, "Arwen is no ordinary elf my friend. Even if she were willing, her father would consider it a grave insult for me to remain by Estel's side. And in this fragile time of peace, the Edain need all the good will they can get." 

Pausing a moment, he continued wryly, "Besides, for all that he spent his first score years amongst us, Estel is not an elf, and his notion of what is honourable and what is not is somewhat different from our own."

Mulling over his words, Gimli said, "Still, surely you do not have to leave tonight; Lord Elrond would not mind if you stayed for the wedding."

Legolas looked at him then, a sad smile across his face, "But I would."

Gimli paused, staring once more into the elf's eyes. Decided, though sorrowed, by the resolve he saw there, he nodded his head. "I will inform the my kinsman that we leave with him at dawn."

Relief and gratitude flooded through the elf, and he relaxed for the first time that night. "My thanks Gimli, I have never been more grateful to be able to call you friend. One last thing," he said, looking over his shoulder as he moved to leave the banquet, "promise me you will not tell him."

Defeated, Gimli nodded again, and watched the elf exit the hall. 

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Love makes fools of the best of us. he thought sadly, shaking his head at that proud, stubborn back.

* * *

© ai 2002. Tell me if you liked it.


	3. Chapter 3

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Silent words, Comfort me

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Author's note: well now, I actually got to chapter 3! It isn't exactly NC-17, but it's pretty close. If you're uncomfortable with that, I'd suggest you skip the first bit.

It's slash, slash, slash. 

Standard disclaimers apply.

****

Chapter 3

Aragorn whirled around in surprise as the door to his personal chambers slammed open. At the sight of the familiar figure standing in the doorway, he relaxed, and sheathed his poniard back into his boot. Old habits died hard.

He got as far as "Why…" before Legolas slammed him into a mahogany wardrobe just inside the room, green eyes burning with questions unasked, statements undeclared…desire unfulfilled. 

Tilting his head upwards, Legolas pulled Aragorn's lips to his own, kissing him hungrily. After the initial shock wore off, Aragorn responded with equal fervour, crushing the elf to his chest. From the elf's lips and in his breath, Aragorn could taste the bitter remnants of wine from the banquet, and he wondered if the elf was drunk.

Whatever the reason, he wasn't exactly displeased by Legolas' demand for intimacy. It had been too long; ever since they'd returned to Gondor, they'd hardly had a moment by themselves, let alone time for anything else. And even before that, during the quest, there had been little opportunity for much besides stolen kisses and quick embraces in the dark.

Still, Aragorn was stunned by his lover's ferocity. As Legolas pushed him roughly onto the canopied bed, the elf snapped his fingers, and every candle in the room went out. By the light of the moon, his eyes were all pupil and shone unnaturally bright. 

A thrill of longing ran through Aragorn, and he reached up to loosen the ties of the elf's tunic. "No." Legolas whispered, pinning his hands by his sides. Laying a gentle kiss on Aragorn's lips, he then proceeded to draw a long line of kisses around his jawbone and down his neck. Aragorn shivered at the butterfly caresses across his skin, then cried out as the elf Prince bit down on the sensitive ridge of collarbone.

He buckled against the restraint on him, but Legolas would not let him go. Instead, the elf transferred his grip so that both Aragorn's wrists were in caught in his left, freeing his right to tear off the man's shirt in a harsh jerk.

Buttons popped and hung idly on frayed threads as the discarded shirt fell to the ground. Catching Aragorn's eyes, Legolas playfully ran one slender hand across a muscled chest, then past a taut stomach, and finally, he reached lower…

Aragorn sat up in an abrupt movement which threw the elf backwards. Caught off guard, Legolas lost his hold on his hands, and Aragorn smiled mischievously. Revenge would be oh so sweet.

Reaching behind the startled elf, Aragorn pulled off the silver cord that bound his hair. His breath caught at the spill of golden hair across fair shoulders; a golden waterfall that shimmered even in the pale moonlight. The elf suddenly looked so lost, so sad, that Aragorn was overcome with the need to hold him tightly his arms, as if by his mere presence, he could exorcise whatever demons caused his beloved such pain. 

In that instant, Aragorn knew he loved him. It was that simple, just because. Come what may, that would not change. There were no words to express how he felt, but he had to try. 

"Legolas," he began. 

"Don't." the elf said, placing a finger to his lips, "I know."

As if to burn away all traces of his momentary vulnerability, Legolas devoured Aragorn's mouth in a kiss that was, if possible, even hungrier than before. Though the few times they had lain together, Legolas had always been willing to receive, Aragorn sensed something was different tonight. The elf wasn't asking, he was demanding, and as Aragorn was pressed back against soft cushions and cold air raised goosebumps on suddenly bare legs, he had a second to wonder what had changed.

Legolas' hands held him firmly by the shoulders. Staring down at the man, his eyes were filled with an unreadable emotion as he said, "Remember me." 

Then the two of them were one, and at the pinnacle of ecstasy, Aragorn's last coherent thought was that sometimes, experience really did matter.

~

Legolas waited till even breathing told him that Aragorn had fallen into deep slumber. Sliding silently out from under the blankets, he looked around the room for his discarded garments, finally finding his boots at opposite ends of the room. Casting a rueful glance at his torn breeches, he slipped on Aragorn's, tying the drawstring tight at his waist.

From his pouch, Legolas drew a thin sheet of parchment, as well as a piece of fletching made from his own hair. As he laid them on the ornate walnut study table, something inside him broke, and he bit his lip hard to keep from crying out as a sudden wash of loneliness passed over him.

Reaching up, his hands closed around the evenstar at his neck. With one harsh jerk, he ripped the glowing jewel off and placed it beside the letter. He could taste blood in his mouth now, but the salt and pain of it were a welcome distraction from the despair that threatened to overwhelm him.

Legolas turned, and walked slowly towards the heavy door of the room. With each step, unshed tears burned more demandingly at the back of his eyes, and the urge to turn around, to take just one last look at the man he was leaving behind forever grew to an almost unbearable pressure. 

But he would not, could not, do it. To see him again, even for a brief moment, would destroy all the resolve he had so carefully built up from the moment he had decided to go. He wouldn't let that happen. For Aragorn's sake, for Arwen's sake, and for his own…by the blood of the Eldar that flowed through his veins, he would see this thing through.

Legolas lifted his head and squared his shoulders. Pulling open the door, he paused on the threshold.

"Fare thee well _mellon_," he whispered beneath his breath, and stepped out. 

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You'll never see him again.

I know.

His boots rang sharply on the stone of deserted hallways as he paced briskly away. The door swung slowly shut, an end to a chapter that should never have been. 

~

Aragorn mumbled restlessly in his sleep, and flung his arm across the bed. Emptiness filled a place where there should have been warmth, which brought him out of troubled dreams immediately.

For a moment, he sat up in bed, disorientated, and then memories of the night came rushing back. Despite considering himself relatively…experienced, Aragorn nearly blushed at the recollection; he hadn't known it was anatomically possible to hold positions like that.

All trace of good humour soon bled away though, when he realised that the elf was nowhere in sight. A glancing ray of moonlight struck the corner of a jewel, and Aragorn's eyes widened as he realised just what it was.

Bounding off the bed, he snatched the evenstar from the table in disbelief. Turning his attention to the two items beside it, he carefully wound the lock of golden hair around his fingers before opening the folded piece of parchment.

There were only a few lines, written in Legolas' flowing script:

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Estel, 

I am leaving. Do not attempt to track me down. It is for the best. Remember me fondly…Namarie, melda_._

May you and Arwen live long and happily together.

L.G.

Aragorn crumpled the note angrily in one fist and slammed it on the table, tipping over several small items in the process. "By the shards of Narsil…" he muttered in frustration.

Throwing on a robe, he slipped the evenstar into his pocket and strode hurriedly out of the door, determined to make the elf see sense; even if he had to pound the daylights out of him in the process.

* * *

© ai 2002

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Thanks for all the encouragement. I'm going to be out of the country for a while, so the next chapter will probably take a little longer. But please keep reading and reviewing. I really appreciate it. 


	4. Chapter 4

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Silent words, Comfort me 

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Author's note: This one's taken a little longer. Very sorry about that. I meant for it to be longer too…but the last part evolved into a chapter of its own, so I decided to end where I did.

I know it's a bit short, but I was writing a harry potter x'mas fic at the same time. (Just in case anyone's interested. :) ) I'll try and make up for it in the next chapter.

And thanks again to everyone who's reviewed, especially those who have been following the story. It really lifts my spirits to know people actually bother to read this. 

Standard disclaimers apply.

****

Chapter 4

Gimli whistled appreciatively as Legolas led his steed forward.

"She's beautiful," he said, running experienced hands over its silky grey coat. The mare was sixteen hands tall, and she shone silver in the moonlight. The only thing that spoiled her perfect symmetry was a black fetlock on her right foreleg, and that merely served to highlight the beauty of the rest of her.

Despite standing amidst unfamiliar men and horses, the mare held her head high. Flaring her nostrils at the strange scents in the air, she nonetheless stood stock still, refusing to display even the slightest sign of doubt or fear.

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Not unlike someone I know. Gimli thought wryly.

The elf in question smiled, and patted the mare's back tenderly, saying, "Rainchaser's of fine stock; of Brego's line. She was…a gift…from…" He faltered on the last words, and turned so his long hair fell forward, covering his face.

Frowning, Gimli looked worriedly at his friend. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked in a low whisper that would not carry to anyone else in the stable.

"No," Legolas said, his voice thick with controlled emotion, "I don't _want_ to." His eyes shone with pain and hurt and a terrible resolve as he raised them to Gimli's, "I _have_ to."

Legolas' hands had balled into fists so tight that his own nails had cut into the flesh of his palms, and blood ran down in tiny rivulets to spot the ground. The elf was a statue of determination - misplaced, in Gimli's opinion - and equally immovable.

Gimli sighed and gave up. He'd tried his best but if the elf insisted on shutting out his words, there was nothing he could do. Besides, as much as he wished his friend happiness, he had to admit that perhaps this really was the best solution for everyone. 

But damn it all, his greatest friend was being torn apart inside and he wasn't about to let something as insignificant as a promise make him watch it happen. 

While Legolas went in search of the rest of the mare's tack, Gimli moved casually to the front of the stable, handing a silver coin to the stable boy. Shielding the action with his body, he said, "I have a message I need delivered…" Gimli whispered careful instructions, then pushed the boy hurriedly out of the double doors. 

"Please let him be in time," Gimli murmured as he watched the boy go, praying to whatever gods cared to listen in the star-filled night.

~

Aragorn had been just about ready to start tearing his hair out in frustration when the harried stable boy ran headfirst into him.

Legolas' room sat cold and empty at the end of the west wing, and by the time Aragorn had raced down to the stables, Rainchaser's stall was devoid of her presence, and anyone else's. Fuming at his own incapacity, he'd been making his way back to the castle to organise a search.

Steadying the boy by his shoulders, Aragorn waited until he was able to stand without assistance before turning to leave. A frantic hand grasped at his coat, holding him back.

"Highness…" the boy managed to get out between breathless pants, "…the Elf Prince and Dwarf Lord…south gate…he said to tell you…" Exhausted from a marathon around the castle in search of the elusive king-to-be, he slumped against the wall for support. 

By that time, Aragorn had heard all he'd needed to hear, and had pulled away, practically flying in the direction of the stables. Throwing himself bareback onto Brego, he coaxed the horse into a gallop towards the direction of the city's southern gate. If they had been leaving at a walk, if they hadn't been gone for more than half a candlemark, if his heart did not simply explode from pounding so hard at the thought that he'd never see him again…then maybe, maybe…

So many ifs, but he had to hope; sometimes, hope was all there was to cling to.

~

In the grey light of predawn, the company headed slowly towards the south of the city, led by Laran, son of Lhoran. 

Bringing up the rear, Gimli and Legolas rode in silence. The elf stared doggedly forward, clutching the reins of his horse so tightly that his knuckles were white from strain. Gimli on the otherhand, fidgeted irritably in the saddle and glanced frequently at his surroundings, straining for some sign of the telltale dust that rose from pursuing hooves.

So distracted were they both that when the horses finally halted at the gate, it took a full minute for them to realise that their way was barred.

"What's this now?" Gimli shouted ahead, pushing his way through to the sentry who stood in their path. 

"To ensure the safety of all during the coronation of the King, the names and businesses of those who pass through the gates this day must be recorded," came the sentry's reply, his voice distorted by the helmet that covered his face.

"I am Laran, son of Lhoran, and my business is my own," Laran snapped heatedly in response. Murmured agreement rose from the dwarfs, and discontented whispers began to grow louder.

"Now, now," Gimli interrupted hurriedly, before tensions escalated to the point where a fight would erupt, "there's no need for all this." Turning to the sentry, he said, "I am Gimli, son of Gloin, one-time companion of Aragorn, heir to the throne of Isildur. My kin and I are journeying to the caverns of Helm's Deep."

The sentry nodded respectfully, and unlocked the smaller door cut into the huge wooden gates. "Of course my lords," he said, waving them through. With a satisfied grunt, Laran rode forward, the rest following soon after.

Second from the end of the line, just ahead of Legolas, Gimli spared a moment for one last hopeful look around him before heeling his horse towards the door. _Some things just aren't meant to be. _he thought sadly. As his horse stepped away from the city, Gimli turned his head back, and started in surprise when the 'sentry' caught his gaze, and winked.

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What on earth… he wondered, then smiled as he recognised the royal carriage even a common soldier's uniform could not hide.

When the door slammed shut just behind him, he wasn't surprised at all. 

"We'll leave without him," he told the confused group of dwarfs, not even bothering to try and hide the grin in his voice, "He can catch up with us later." 

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If he still wants to. 

* * *

© ai 2002 

Merry Christmas everybody!!


	5. Chapter 5

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Silent Words, Comfort me

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Author's note: Sigh. I'm going to miss this story, but with several upcoming real life commitments, I might not have much time to write anymore…at least for the next few 2 months or so. I didn't want to leave it hanging, so this is going to be the last real chapter of Silent words, Comfort me.

Heartfelt thanks to everyone who has read this, hope you enjoy this one too.

Standard disclaimers apply.

****

Chapter 5

Legolas blinked, and the mass of seething brown slowly resolved itself into a door of dark grained wood. He blinked again, and saw the quiet figure standing in front of it.

The man watched him steadily, then, satisfied that he had the elf's attention, reached up and pulled the helmet from his head. Tossing it carelessly into a corner, he folded his arms across his chest and waited.

Legolas stared right back. _He_ had done everything within his power to avoid exactly this scene, and since Aragorn had decided to force a confrontation, let him be the one to set its tone. 

The silence stretched between them. Just when it seemed someone or something had to give, Rainchaser snorted, and chose that moment to answer a pressing call of nature.

Startled, Aragorn jumped away from hissing stream, falling ungracefully backwards. The elf hastily turned Rainchaser around, struggling to contain his mirth. Finally, the absolute incongruity of the scene drove the laughter from their mouths, and ringing peals filled the air.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Legolas slid off the horse, and walked over to where Aragorn still lay laughing. Offering his hand, he pulled the man to his feet.

The moment passed, and as the merriment faded from Aragorn's eyes, Legolas felt the grin fall from his face. He tried to withdraw his hand, but Aragorn held it tight.

"Were you going to leave?" he asked softly, "Just like that?"

"I left a note," Legolas replied weakly. 

The hand around his tightened and Aragorn pulled him briskly behind him into the guardroom within the watchtower. Releasing him, he turned and locked the door, then slammed a fist into the wood.

Legolas jumped at this display of temper, but said nothing. After all, he had long ago said everything that had to be said.

"How could you do it?" the man asked, his words filled with quiet, but growing rage.

"It had to be done," Legolas said calmly.

Aragorn's eyes flashed, and in an instant, he'd caught both the elf's wrists, palm upwards, in his own. "You belong to me," he growled gutturally. 

Legolas' temper flared briefly. "I belong to no one," he snapped back.

"Oh really?" The man arched an eyebrow and brought the hands to his lips, one after another. Bending over them, his tongue moved delicately over the half-moon curves that still seeped blood, tracing them, caressing them...

The elf gasped, and swayed on his feet. What would he not give to be able to surrender to the fire that burned within him at his touch…But he couldn't; they both had duties that could only be fulfilled apart - to their lands, to their people…

__

But not to each other? whispered that treacherous voice in his head.

"NO!" The word startled Aragorn sufficiently for him to slip free, and he backed as far away from the man as he could manage to in that tiny room, trembling as he struggled to regain control. "I have to leave," he said, pleading with the man to understand, "You know that."

The anger ran out of Aragorn like water burst from a dam, and he slumped against the door, drained and tired. Sighing, he turned and faced the elf, sorrow threaded through his voice. "I suppose I do," he said. Burying his face in his hands, he sank slowly to the floor. "It's just…sometimes, I wish…"

Though he still felt as though his skin was about to burst from trying to contain the feelings within him, Legolas managed to cross the distance between them and kneel beside the man. "I understand," he said simply, slender fingers running ever so lightly across his cheek. Aragorn watched the elf, sudden hunger flaring in his eyes. 

Catching Legolas' hand, he pulled him downwards, and kissed him brutally. The elf stiffened as the cut across his lower lip broke open again, spilling salty blood into their mouths, the warmth washing right through him…

"Stop that," Legolas said abruptly, breaking away, "You only make the parting harder."

"Stay with me," Aragorn said, his tone caught between command and plea.

"That's impossible," he replied instantly, "You would have to forsake your kingdom…"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

"Your people."

"Yes."

"Your name."

"Yes."

"Your betrothed."

A pause. Aragorn looked at him, and Legolas thought he would lose himself in the swirling emotions that stirred inside.

"Arwen is the woman I love best…" he admitted. -

Legolas gently pulled away, reaching for the door in front. 

- Aragorn wound his arms tightly about the elf's waist and forced him back towards him.

"…but you are the one I love most," he said, holding onto the elf as if he would never, ever let him go.

Closing his eyes, Legolas relaxed into the embrace. Though he might never again feel those arms around him, the words were enough to see him through the endless years ahead.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?" Aragorn asked.

"Everything…"

As the remnants of the night slowly bled away, they lay silently together, aware that they might never hold each other so again. 

"Marry her," Legolas said suddenly, breaking the peace that they had let themselves be lulled into.

"What?" asked Aragorn in disbelief.

Legolas sighed and turned to face him. "You were going to anyway - but wait a year before you do. She deserves a husband whom, when he looks at her, sees only her." 

"But…" he protested.

Legolas silenced him with a pointed look. He knew the thoughts running through the man's head; how many times had they run through his own? "You need your heirs," he said, not unkindly, "The Reunited Kingdom needs her kings."

Gently disentangling himself from Aragorn, he stood. "So…" he continued, "Marry her," _like I can never be with you. _"Cherish her," _like I wish I could cherish you. _"Love her," _like I will always love you._

He opened the door to the room. -

- And closed the door to his heart.

"Wait," Aragorn said, desperately searching for anything to keep the elf beside him one moment longer. Sifting through the items in his tunic pocket, he twined the evenstar about its chain and held it out to him.

Legolas stared at it, then reached out and closed his hand over the man's, the jewel held in both their grasps. Shaking his head, he said, "Keep it. It was given to you."

"Take this then," Aragorn said hurriedly, drawing a large silver ring from his finger and placing it onto the elf's.

Legolas smiled, and inclined his head graciously in acceptance. Pushing the door open, he took one step forward. As his foot crossed the threshold, Aragorn's voice came from behind him.

"Will I ever see you again?" he asked.

Legolas hesitated, and turned to look at him over his shoulder. "Perhaps," he said, "perhaps."

Jumping lightly onto Rainchaser's back, he clucked his tongue and walked the horse to the gate. 

As the sun's first rays touched the earth, Legolas urged his horse into a gallop. With every second that passed, he grew further and further away from his beloved in so many ways - but none that really mattered.

~

The sun was high overhead when Legolas caught up with them.

"You're back," Gimli said in a decidedly disappointed tone, not exactly delighted to see him.

Legolas shrugged and herded Rainchaser gently into line. The dwarf protested and moved towards him, but something in his face stopped him in his tracks. 

The elf was not happy, but he was…resolved, and perhaps, at peace.

"You'll got it sorted out then?" Gimli asked him gruffly, attempting, and failing miserably, to hide the concern in his voice. 

"Yes," Legolas replied, his right index finger gently tracing the curve of the ring on his left.

__

Just before he was out of earshot, he heard Aragorn cry, "I will always love you."

Legolas smiled a smile Aragorn couldn't see. Until the earth cradles you in her womb, and even beyond…forever._ "I've never stopped loving someone once I started," he called back, tears streaming unnoticed down his cheeks, "And I don't think I ever will."_

Legolas looked up, with an expression so filled with joy and pain and sweet, sweet sorrow it dazzled Gimli and all that looked upon him. "Yes."

__

Silent words.

Comfort me.

* * *

© ai 2002

Please don't kill me yet, there's still the epilogue. :)


	6. Epilogue

****

Silent Words, Comfort me 

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Author's note: I think this is it. Ahh, I'm going to miss this story, and everyone who's r&r. Guess this is goodbye then.

Standard disclaimers apply.

****

Epilogue 

Aragorn turned abruptly at the play of sun on long, golden hair, and barely managed to restrain from crying out at a perfect stranger. It wasn't him, it never was, and yet, the hope still lived…someday…

"My lord," the sudden arrival of a flustered courier brought his attention back to the present, "The baby, it's coming. The queen requests your presence at the castle immediately."

A delighted smile spread across Aragorn's face as he threaded his way hurriedly through the marketplace in the wake of the courier. Finally, a child of his own, flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood. Even the ever-present ache inside him could not completely dim the joy he felt at that moment. 

__

If only…

No! he told himself sharply. _Be thankful for what you have; the Gods have been kind._

~

"My son," he whispered in wonder at the tiny body he cradled in his arms. Looking down at the exhausted woman on the bed, he gave her a look of utmost gratification. "Thank you so much." 

Arwen managed a tired quirk at the corners of her mouth. "You're most welcome," she replied hoarsely. 

"He's rather…small," he continued, brows knit in intense concentration.

Arwen barked out a laugh. "If you want them any bigger," she said, "you can have them yourself."

Her husband grinned back at her. It had been five years since their marriage and she knew how much he loved her…and how much he more he still loved the Elven Prince. The ways of the heart were strange, and she did not begrudge him his love. He did not understand that she had only ever wanted for him to be happy.

She watched as he handled their son so very gently, as though he were afraid the infant would shatter at a firm touch. She watched, and wondered how much longer he would remain content.

~

"Eldarion…" he murmured lovingly to his son, one large hand stroking the soft, dark down on his head, "that shall be your name." 

A lump rose unbidden to his throat. They had given up so much for this one tiny bundle, and he knew in his heart that Legolas would agree it had all been worth it.

Handing the babe back to his nurse, he strode slowly to his quarters. As the door swung slowly shut, the memory of the bright golden hair he'd seen that morning came back to him, releasing a flood of others that broke the barriers he had so carefully built up around his heart.

__

The scent of spring grass that lingered perpetually on his skin. The innocence in his eyes that long centuries had failed to erase. The feel of his touch in the silence of the night…

"I was a fool to have let you go," he muttered angrily to himself.

"Damn right you were," growled a disembodied voice somewhere in the room. The stout figure stepped out from behind the curtains to face a very startled king.

"Gimli!" Aragorn cried in shock, trying to slow his heart rate to something approaching normal "Were you trying to kill me?"

The dwarf let out a loud hrrumph and placed himself squarely in front of the man. "Travel thousands of miles just to visit you and this is the thanks I get?" he asked in mock anger.

Aragorn laughed and clasped his hands warmly. "Of course not," he said, "I'm delighted to see you. It's been too long."

"Aye, that it has," Gimli replied, walking with him towards two large chairs by the fireplace. "How is the babe? I've been waiting for you since morn but you were…held up."

Taking that as an invitation to explain himself, Aragorn fairly glowed with pride as he expounded on his new heir's virtues. Gimli raised an eyebrow at several unlikely feats the enthusiastic father swore his infant could perform and merely smiled indulgently. 

After half a candlemark, Aragorn finally ran out of steam and settled back into his chair. "So how have you passed these half dozen years?" he asked the dwarf.

Gimli shrugged, the ax he wore constantly at his side clanging discordantly against the metal lining his boots. "Oh, I've been here and there," he said, "Travelled a fair bit; Moria, Helm's Deep, Fangorn, Mirkwood…"

At the mention of that shadowed forest, Aragorn's heart leapt once more into his throat. The need to ask was an almost physical pain, but he was so afraid of what he might hear.

Catching sight of the man's anguished expression, Gimli broke off abruptly, and fell silent for a moment. Finally, he sighed and said, "I know your questions."

Aragorn looked at him hopefully. "Then…"

"I'm just wondering whether you deserve to know the answer," he quipped back. Watching the blood practically drain from the man's face, Gimli couldn't bring himself to joke any longer. 

"He misses you," the dwarf said sadly, "He eats and drinks and laughs and smiles as though it doesn't matter, but we can still tell."

Aragorn listened intently with every fibre of his being; old guilt uncurling from the depths where he had thought it buried. "I'm sorry…" he whispered.

Gimli's temper flared and he leapt to his feet, shaking a large fist under the man's nose. "'Tis not to me that you should make your apologies," he said angrily. Calming slightly, he continued, "But then, the fault is not wholly yours…That fool elf - he's more stubborn than most mules I've met, and I've met quite a few in my day. He'll never admit he made a mistake."

Aragorn nodded wryly in agreement; he remembered that all too well. Once his elf had come to a decision, nothing and no one could change his mind. Lost as he was in the memories, he missed the next part of the dwarf's words.

"…go to him." The dwarf crossed his arms in front of his chest to indicate that he had finished speaking and looked expectantly at the man.

"I can't…" Aragorn stammered hesitantly.

"Of course you can," the dwarf snapped, slamming his fist into the mantle above the fireplace, "If he won't lower his Valar-accursed pride to return to you, then you must go to him."

"But…"

"He's dying inside, " the dwarf said, holding out a hand imploringly, "You do not have to answer me now, give it some thought first. Who knows…" He shrugged and made his way across the room, then turned back and paused with one palm wrapped around the doorknob. "I'll be here for two days," he said, "after which I journey to Mirkwood." Closing the door behind him, the unspoken invitation hung in the air.

Aragorn curled into his chair, absently stirring the wood with the poker. He couldn't go to the elf; he had responsibilities to his country, responsibilities to his family. He couldn't abandon everything just like that.

__

But the Reunited Kingdom was at peace, or at least as close to peace as it had ever been, and he had done his duty, sired his heir…perhaps…

Deep in his heart, the idea took root and began to grow.

__

Someday…

* * *

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© ai 2002 

thanks for everything. 


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